


Downfall

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Maker didn't free me...</i>
</p><p> </p><p>The struggle between duty and love will never be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be My Savior

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnandtea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnandtea/gifts).



i  
 _The Maker didn’t free me._  
No, he had freed himself. With teeth as sharp as razors and nails as sharp as broken glass, he had freed himself. He had felt every bit of the wolf his master had named him, yet he had been pitifully small, wounded and damaged. Still, Fenris had freed himself, had forged his path to freedom in blood and battle. 

What could a brother of the Chantry ever know about such harshness, such unremitting horror? He had lived his life in a palace, white and towering, and even when he had been sent away he had found himself in warm, accepting arms, holding him near and dear. Sebastian had always breathed free, so what would he know of blood and sacrifice and the terrible weight of clawing his way through rubble for the smallest breath of air?

He spoke with so much tenderness and patience that Fenris found it difficult to be indignant. Yet he spoke, too, from a place of great privilege, from a precipice that was heavily fortified and prevented him from ever falling over the edge. At the end of the day, Sebastian was a prince of Starkhaven, and Fenris was an elven slave who wore his scars deeper than his skin.

Despite all of that, Fenris took some solace in Sebastian’s words. He would never let Sebastian see the way he smiled when he spoke to him so gently. To do so was to invite mockery, or worse, inspection. Fenris refused to be placed under a microscope and dissected like some small, struggling insect. He had not broken free and journeyed so many miles simply to be amusement for some prince with an uneasy heart and soul. 

...Perhaps he was being unfair. When Sebastian met his eyes, it was never with criticism or derision. He was only warm and kind, his eyes the bright blue of a cloudless sky. Sometimes Fenris thought he was falling into them, freewheeling, helpless. He hadn’t quite brought himself to look into Sebastian’s eyes longer than a moment. 

Fenris had not been made to lose himself in such eyes. He was stained by blood and covered with wicked scars; he was shaped by slavery and shadowed by oppression. Sebastian was a man clean of such stains and spectacularly, blindingly bright. Fenris could barely stand to look at him he was so unblemished.

“Perhaps the Maker simply gave you the strength to move forward,” Sebastian said. Funny, Fenris came to the Chantry to find peace and quiet, yet Sebastian sat beside him and spoke as though Fenris had invited him. He found it difficult to be angry, so he settled for being mildly annoyed. He sighed, and scooted away when he realized how close Sebastian was to him. 

“Do you ever tire of this diatribe?” Fenris asked. “Must I be harassed each time I come here?”

Sebastian chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Would you like me to leave you be?”

What a complicated question. Or rather, what a simple question that shouldn’t have given Fenris reason to pause. It seemed innocuous enough: _Would you like me to leave you be?_ Yet hidden beneath, Fenris could sense something complex and tangled up in too much emotion. Perhaps if that emotion had been something heady, something hot that lived in his belly and cock, he might have felt more comfortable with it. But no, it existed in his chest, in his lungs and the small space between his ribs. It lived in his breath and his fingertips that twitched to run through Sebastian’s hair. 

He would like very much for Sebastian to leave him be, but Fenris doubted that was an option. He was consumed by the man, and there was nothing that could be done for it. Every little crinkle at the corners of his eyes and crooked smile left him reeling. Fenris didn’t think there was any letting him be, any peace Sebastian could afford him. 

“No,” Fenris said. “That’s all right. I only---” He sighed. “I needed someplace quiet.”

Sebastian nodded. He sat beside Fenris in silence, and it was... nice. Companionable, _comfortable_. How long had it been since he had simply enjoyed the presence of another person? How long had it been since he had simply... existed with someone else, and been content to be with them? Where no demands were made of him and there were no expectations to clutter things up?

That was the worst thing, of course; Fenris honestly didn’t know.

He couldn’t remember.

Sometime later Sebastian took his hand with that same companionable, comfortable ease. 

Fenris sighed his name and he was damned.

 

~*~

It was raining when he left the Chantry. Sebastian stepped out with him, to tell him goodbye, most likely. When he saw the rain, he took Fenris’ hand -- with that damnable ease, that irritatingly beautiful absence of thought -- and tugged him towards the stairs. “Let me walk with you,” Sebastian said. Fenris sighed again, something more intimate than his name, but Sebastian couldn’t hear him over the rain.

He let himself be guided, as though he had forgotten where he lived. Considering how scattered his thoughts were, how his head and his heart and his blood pounded, he might have.

They didn’t so much walk as run through the rain, laughing and breathless like small children. When they reached the manor, Fenris pulled Sebastian by the front of his shirt under the awning that shadowed his front door. The space was small, and the heat between them was extraordinary. It was as though they were two glowing embers that needed only the smallest of breaths to ignite them into wildfire. 

The breath was Sebastian’s, soft against Fenris’ lips: “Goodnight, then.”

Fenris kissed him, hard. His lips tasted like rain, his hair was soaked with it, and Fenris threaded his fingers through and pushed himself onto the tips of his toes. He needed to be closer, to be eaten alive by the heat between them.

He could have kissed him forever. The thought filled him with fear, but also with a burning, raw need. He could have kissed him forever, and lived comfortably inside of his mouth.

Sebastian pulled back with his face flushed and his wet lips trembling.

“Fenris,” he whispered. “I’m--- You don’t know how badly I want to. How badly I want to be with you.” His hand curled under Fenris’ jaw, tilting his face up. His breath was warm and quick against his mouth, and Fenris closed his eyes. He waited to be consumed by the heat, he waited for Sebastian to fill him with breath and tongue and set fire to him and leave him a ruined husk. He wanted it so badly he could feel his body thrumming for it, his blood and his heart pulsing for it. 

“I can’t,” Sebastian whispered. “Please.”

Fenris’ eyes opened slowly. 

“I want to be good to you,” Sebastian said. He slipped closer, but only to nuzzle his nose against Fenris’ temple, only to let his breath tickle his earlobe. Fenris hated the closeness of him, hated the heat of his body and the soft rush of his breath, hated the way he loved him and wanted him and needed him.

“So be good to me,” Fenris said. He felt like a petulant child and he hated _himself_ for that.

“I am good to you,” Sebastian said. “I’m your friend, Fenris. That has to... That has to count for something.”

Of course it did. Perhaps more than anything else. No one had ever taken the time to get close to him. No one had ever possessed the patience and the gentleness and the unequivocal goodness to simply be close to him and accept him for who he was, for what Danarius had made him, for who he couldn’t help being. Or simply let him learn who he wanted to be. 

“Yes,” Fenris said. He turned his face and rested his brow against Sebastian’s hair. The need for him was brutal, almost painful, but he would not tarnish what Sebastian offered him by demanding anything more. He would not spit on his friendship for the chance to learn the shape of his body and the flush of his skin under his armor. “It does. I only---” Fenris shook his head, and left a kiss in Sebastian’s hair. “Thank you.”

When Sebastian pulled back, Fenris could see the same terrible want in his eyes, the same fire that coursed through his blood and turned him to ashes. 

But there was nothing they could do. Nothing more than hold on to one another and be as good to one another as they could be.

Sebastian kissed him, softly and quickly, and passed his fingers through Fenris’ damp hair. He smiled, and it lit up the darkness and pierced Fenris’ heart, and he knew there was no hope for him. He was damned by his love for Sebastian, but it was a sweet damnation.

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” Fenris murmured.

Sebastian kissed him again, between his eyes, smoothing the constant furrow of his brow. 

“Goodnight, Fenris,” Sebastian whispered.


	2. Love Lay Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come with me...
> 
> Three simple words with no simple response. 
> 
> What place does Fenris have in Starkhaven? What place could he hope to have with a Prince?

ii

“It’s alright, Fenris,” Sebastian said. “Try again.”

Fenris closed the book and tossed it away. “I do not see the point to this,” Fenris snapped. “What good is there in teaching a slave to read? Next you’ll tell me I should learn how to knit and appreciate fine art.”

Sebastian leaned in close. Fenris swallowed, hard enough to hear a click at the back of his throat, and closed his eyes. He waited for Sebastian to tell him he was an ungrateful churl. He waited for Sebastian to tell him he wasn’t worth the effort, that he’d made a mistake all those years before when he’d promised to be good to him.

Instead, Sebastian whispered: “You are no one’s slave, Fenris. Now... try again, if you’d be so kind.”

He sighed and reached for the book.

~*~

Despite what everyone feared, Fenris didn’t spend all of his time cooped up in the manor brooding and plotting his former master’s violent death. He enjoyed taking walks around the Hightown Estates, stopping to admire the azaleas that bloomed in front of the De Launcet’s mansion, or the posies that had sprung up rather abruptly in front of the Harimann’s door. Isabela took him to the Hanged Man on most nights, where they drank and played cards with Varric, both of them staggering back to Fenris’ manor sometime before sunrise and fucking quickly and noisily.

He lived, for all intents and purposes, a very mundane life. Aside from the bandit slaying, and the slaver hunting, and the occasional forays into Kirkwall’s underbelly, he was quite removed from the grand scheme of things. Fenris preferred it that way. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged into politics and the battle for chaos versus control. All he wanted was to live, as quietly and simply as he could. He wanted to drink, he wanted to roll dice and breathe in smoke, he wanted to fuck, to laugh when his throat was kissed. He wanted to exist without offense or expectation or promise or threat. 

Fenris simply wanted to _be_.

What could have very easily been a simple existence was turned on its head when Danarius arrived. With all of his bold promises to Hawke that he wouldn’t live with a tiger at his back, Fenris had held some hope that Danarius had tired of chasing him like a wild dog. He had hoped that the man would stay in Minrathous and leave Fenris to whatever fate awaited him. To know that he hadn’t given up wasn’t that surprising... but to know that his own sister had sold him out, that she had chosen being an apprentice to a magister over her own brother’s life and freedom...

It was a wound beyond all healing.

Yet when Danarius lay dead and his fingers were slick and hot with his blood... when his eyes fell on her and his bloody fingers curled tight against his palm... Hawke’s voice cut through the red haze, clear and strong: _Don’t kill her_.

No. He might have been many things, and perhaps none of them were good or worth much, but he would not hurt her. _Could not._

“Get out,” Fenris growled.

Varania couldn’t just leave, she couldn’t just let him be. She had to tell him all the things he had forgotten, all the things -- Fenris realized now -- that he wished had remained lost to him forever. What good did it do him to know he competed for the brands carved deep and wicked into his skin? What good did it do him to know that he had fought and sacrificed everything for his mother and sister to live free, only to find out that freedom had been a curse of a different kind?

What good did it do him to look into her eyes and see nothing warm, nothing affectionate, nothing _tender_? She looked on him as a monster, and Fenris averted his eyes.

“I am alone,” he whispered, when she was gone. He could almost hear the echo of his words against the wood and stone, could almost hear the echo against his ribs, and it hurt him. He closed his eyes, and there was a hand on his shoulder. Hawke, he thought, come to comfort him with more sweet lies. He looked up and Sebastian stood before him. There was blood on his cheek, and without thinking, Fenris reached up and swiped it away with his thumb. 

“No,” Sebastian said. “Never.”

What existed between them was complicated and tangled and beyond all comprehension. At times it seemed hot enough to melt them both, and other times it was simply comfortable, safe, strangely and beautifully intimate. Fenris could lose himself in Sebastian’s eyes and be perfectly content to drift in them forever. In that moment, though, whatever it was seemed clear and focused. 

Fenris moved close to Sebastian and let himself be held. When Sebastian kissed his brow and whispered to him, he closed his eyes and moved closer. 

Whatever they were to one another, it was something sweet, and it was worth holding on to.

~*~

“Come with me.”

No grand speech or sweet promises, only those three words, soft and trembling against Fenris’ ear.

Sebastian was curled against him, his breath muggy, his body damp. His legs twined through Fenris’, and there was not even an inch between their skin. Strange how perfectly Sebastian fit against him, how wonderfully he settled against his curves and the angles of his body. Fenris was not so caught up in breathless romanticism to believe one person could ever be made for him, but he was not so lost in cynicism that the thought didn’t make him smile.

“And do what, I wonder?” Fenris asked. “I am no soldier, Sebastian.”

“You misunderstand me,” Sebastian said. Even when his voice trembled, he sounded confident. He sounded like he could move mountains. “I do not need a soldier. I need _you_.”

“Oh,” Fenris said. He laughed, bitterly, and felt immediately guilty. Sebastian was obviously bearing his heart to him, exposing himself in a way that no darkness would ever completely shield him from; the least Fenris could do was respect his courage. “What will your people say when I arrive in Starkhaven with their prince? I don’t think they’ll be very accepting of your love affair with a man. Or an _elf_.”

Sebastian kissed his throat, the spot where his sweat collected and he smelled heavily of sex, and pressed his nose against Fenris’ hair. Fenris shivered. There was no hiding in the darkness when you shivered, when someone felt your body tremble and tasted the sweat on your throat. Fenris would either place himself entirely in Sebastian’s hands, or he would send him away and close himself off as well as he could. 

“I care very little for what they accept,” Sebastian said. “I’ve spent my entire life worrying over what people will think of me, what way I should present myself, and I’m tired. I’m tired of pretending that you don’t drive me mad, Fenris. I’m tired of pretending that you don’t drag me down into desire and passion and _madness_.”

Fenris held his breath. He wasn’t aware of it, but when his vision turned gray at the edges, he inhaled sharply.

“Come with me,” Sebastian repeated, a whisper against his ear. “Please.”

He closed his eyes, and the darkness was complete. But there was still no hiding within it, no sheltering himself from whatever storm this was between them. There was nowhere left for him to turn except Sebastian’s arms. There was nowhere he could go where he would not dream of him, and ache in want of him, and desire to drift forever in his eyes.

Fenris opened his eyes to shadows and shafts of shifting light. He turned and found a brighter light in Sebastian’s arms.

“Alright,” Fenris whispered. “When do we leave?”


	3. Only Love Can Save Us Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You could not simply listen to reason...
> 
> Betrayal and political maneuvering greet Sebastian in Starkhaven; with Fenris caught in the middle.

iii

Starkhaven was nothing like Fenris had expected. He’d dreamed of a city on the Minanter river, where the palace pierced the sky with glorious minarets, where the countryside rolled on forever against the horizon, and where the Chantry was grandiose and the bells pealed through the city and echoed down the dizzying alleyways. 

Instead, he found Starkhaven to be rather dreary and lackluster. Pretty enough, but without the excitement and splendor he’d anticipated. The palace was grand, to be sure, but it never reached for the sky, and it did not gleam beneath the stone. It was a fortress more than anything, grey and bleak with ballistae mounted on the stone walls and torches burning in the windows. It seemed from another time, or perhaps it was simply for a future time. A time where there would be need to rain death down on those beating against the palace doors. 

The entire city was built for war. Fenris could sense it in the air and taste it when he breathed and feel it settling heavy and oppressive on his skin. It longed for war, and the people seemed to share the city’s sentiments. Let the whole of Thedas come, they seemed to cry out, let them come and see Starkhaven’s might.

Thinking of Sebastian in such a place, as a boy wild in his youth with his eyes gleaming and his teeth flashing in a grin, was difficult for Fenris. He couldn’t imagine such a staunch, imposing place would ever encourage levity; and so Sebastian had been sent to the Chantry, his wild spirit tamed, his wild heart bound in chains.

“You do not like it,” Sebastian said. 

They were in his room, an ornately decorated, brightly lit place that hurt Fenris’ eyes. Even still, it held its own gloom -- centuries of dead princes and the weight of their decisions hung in the air. It choked him. He couldn’t imagine how Sebastian was feeling. Still, the bed was comfortable enough, and the balcony looked out over the center of the city, towards where the Minanter river wended. 

“It’s not that,” Fenris said, even though it was. “It is only... not what I expected.” He rubbed his arms absently, easing goosebumps that he couldn’t explain. The entire place felt wrong somehow. Pretty enough, yes, but _wrong_.

Sebastian cupped his face and kissed his lips softly. It was then that Fenris knew just what was so wrong with Starkhaven and her people. He had expected them to be like Sebastian. He had expected the place of his lover’s birth to feel like him, to be warm and bright and lively and good. But Sebastian seemed to be an aberration, a precious thing in a grim city.

In a grim world.

“It’s nothing,” Fenris said. He smiled and wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s waist. “I’m only getting my bearings, that is all.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said. “Tomorrow I’ll take you around the city and show you everything. As I recall, there are quite a few shops in the market that sell beautifully crafted swords and armor. Also, the taverns are rather good, if not a bit expensive.” He laughed, looking every bit the mischievous, grinning boy he had once been; and Fenris wanted him, badly, wanted him in every way. Wanted the boy he had been and the man he was and the man he _would_ be. “Though that was never an issue for me,” Sebastian finished, his grin crooked.

Fenris kissed his teeth.

Sebastian cradled the back of his head. He opened Fenris’ mouth with his tongue, and just when the heat began to build below Fenris’ belt, he pulled back. Just as he had that night under the rain, with his lips wet and trembling and his face flushed. This time, however, he looked entirely calm, perhaps even a bit coquet, which Fenris wasn’t used to.

“How long do you suppose those sheets have sat there, undisturbed?” Sebastian asked. His eyes flicked to the bed, and his smile sunk dimples into his cheeks. “It seems a shame, doesn’t it? A bed has two uses, after all. That I can think of. Sleeping and---”

“Fucking,” Fenris said. He gripped Sebastian’s cock through his trousers.

 

“Ah, I was going to say making love,” Sebastian laughed. “But... yes.”

Fenris chuckled. “I’ve never _made love_ with a prince before. Do you think we should rectify that?”

“That won’t do at all, you’re right,” Sebastian whispered. He stepped nearer, and the heat returned, flooding Fenris’ veins and spreading through his stomach and groin. 

Sebastian pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him. He paused just long enough to blow out the candles that surrounded the bed, before he began undressing Fenris, slowly, his eyes like blue flames in the darkness. Strange, Fenris had never noticed the similarities between the color of Sebastian’s eyes, and the color of his brands when they flared and flashed. He had lyrium eyes, so blue and bright they were almost painful. Maker, but he could stare into them for a lifetime. He could lose himself there so easily and never care that he was drifting.

Fenris’ brands flashed, lighting Sebastian’s way. Sebastian unlaced his trousers and pushed his hand inside, fingers tracing the subtle curve of Fenris’ dick, thumb massaging slowly over his cockhead. Fenris arched, spreading his thighs and grinding his cock against Sebastian’s hand. 

His throat was bitten and sucked. Fenris closed his eyes and felt the warmth of his brand against his skin, the warmth of Sebastian’s body mounting him, the warmth of Sebastian’s tongue slick against his throat. He grunted when Sebastian lowered himself onto his cock, and he laughed -- heady and dizzy and so damned happy he felt he might die from it -- when Sebastian whispered: “How many elves do you think have been inside of _princes_?”

None, most likely. Or very few. It didn’t matter. In that darkness and heat and closeness, they weren’t anything but lovers. Princes and elves and brothers and slaves... None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was Sebastian riding him. The only thing that mattered was Sebastian’s breath against his ear and the way his fingers found Fenris’ and curled through them.

The only thing that mattered was how madly Fenris loved him.

“I would keep you here forever,” Sebastian whispered, when they were through and their bodies were wet and trembling. His voice was a rush, tremulous, against Fenris’ throat. 

“I would stay forever,” Fenris said.

But he knew that he would never be able to. Even if, by some miracle, the people of Starkhaven didn’t riot and scream for his blood when they discovered their prince had taken an elven lover, he knew he could not stay forever. Eventually Sebastian would grow tired of him. He would have his fun, perhaps for months or even years... but he would grow tired and he would send Fenris away. 

He had not been made to lie with princes.

 

~*~

For a few months, things went surprisingly well. There was an intense feeling of unease whenever Fenris walked the streets, but nothing so terrible that he couldn’t handle it. The people watched him, of course, it was to be expected. No one made an attempt on his live, however. As far as the people of Starkhaven were concerned, Fenris didn’t exist. There were the whispers, naturally, that their prince had taken an elven boy to his bed, that he was mad if he believed they would ever see Fenris as anything more than an escaped slave and unfit to sit beside a Vael.

And of course, there were Sebastian’s advisors who whispered in his ear about the inappropriateness of his relationship with Fenris. They attempted to plant their seeds of doubt; Fenris would betray him, Fenris wanted power, Fenris desired to usurp his throne -- but nothing that made Sebastian pull back from him. They whispered, too, that he had to produce an heir if he wished to keep the Vael bloodline seated on the throne. There were far too many ambitious and power hungry people vying for the throne for Sebastian to be seen as weak or unfit.

Sebastian dismissed their arguments. He would not abandon Fenris simply to marry and sire an heir. Eventually, he would have to, but for the moment he was content enough to be with Fenris and let his people and his advisors and the whole of the Free Marches whisper about him.

There was no rioting in the streets or screams for Fenris’ blood. There were no swift and stealthy assassin’s stealing into their bedchamber in the night with daggers ready to cut open his throat. There was nothing but the whispers and the eyes following him and the sense that he was an _other_ ; someone who would never and could never belong. 

Until the night that Sebastian awoke with a man standing over his bed with a curved blade drawn. For the longest time they had both assumed someone would make an attempt on one, or both, of their lives; but it had been something they had spoken of with laughter. No one would ever be so bold or so reckless. This was Starkhaven, not Antiva. Such things were not common.

He tried to make a sound, but he was frozen and his throat was too tight. The most he could do was sigh weakly. The man was darkness above him, his shape thick and hulking in the shadows. Sebastian finally managed to move, reaching for the knife he kept under his pillow -- something else he and Fenris had gotten a chuckle out of -- and he felt the blade slice his shoulder. The wound was shallow, Sebastian could tell that even without examining himself, but it still bleed. His blood was hot and slick on his shoulder, and he fell back against the bed with a quiet groan.

“You could not simply listen to reason,” the man said. His voice was familiar, but Sebastian was too focused on the pain in his shoulder to recognize it. “You could not simply make this easy on yourself, on your kingdom, on all of us. You had to fall in love with a filthy knife-eared _whore_.”

With everything that he was faced with, Sebastian’s first thought should have been prolonging his own life as long as he was able. He should have been thinking desperately of a way to defend himself, a way to drive the man back and gain some kind of advantage. Yet all he could do was growl low in his chest, and look up at the man’s hulking shadow.

“He’s no one’s _whore_ ,” Sebastian spat.

The man laughed. Sebastian saw the blade, slick with his blood, angle back in the darkness. A small sliver of moonlight caught it, reflecting on it so brightly that Sebastian had to narrow his eyes. He knew then that there was nothing he could do. He was at too much of a disadvantage to fight the man off, and his vision was severely limited. The man had all the entire weight of his body as leverage, not to mention a weapon, and eyes that were used to the darkness. Sebastian raised his arm to deflect the blow, and he cried out when the man slashed downward with the blade---

There was no pain. No fresh wound, no feel of his blood gushing out as the blade sliced through arteries. There was blood, but not his own. It gushed across his face hot and wet, and Sebastian recoiled.

A quiet gurgle was the only noise the man with the blade made as he fell to his knees. His throat had been sliced open, deep and ragged. He crumpled, making a few more disgusting gurgling noises before falling still and silent forever. 

Fenris stood with a dagger clenched tightly in his hand. Sebastian made a noise, something small and desperate, and Fenris dropped the blade and moved to him.

“We have to leave,” Fenris whispered. 

“No, I... No, I cannot, I have, have to---”

“Sebastian,” Fenris said. He cupped the man’s bloody face and looked down into his eyes. The room was all darkness, but he could see those eyes clearly enough. They were hot, and bright, and there was no room for argument. “ _We have to leave_.”

He _wanted_ to argue. After everything he had done to reclaim his throne, after everything he had been through to return to his home and lead his people, after everything he had _abandoned_... How could he let one failed assassination keep him from his rightful place? How could he let one deranged fool keep him from leading his people through the hardship of war?

Sebastian couldn’t argue. Fenris would never ask him to leave unless he had a good reason. He would never ask Sebastian to give up what he had wanted so desperately simply because he was frightened. 

“Wh-where?” Sebastian asked.

“My suggestion is anywhere other than here,” Fenris said.

 

~*~

“I am abandoning my people,” Sebastian said.

Fenris leaned against the side of the carriage with his face turned away. They had traveled in silence for nearly three hours, riding out of Starkhaven, and they hadn’t said a single word to one another. It was amazing that they had even found someone to carry them from the city, considering they were both covered in blood. Even more amazing considering Fenris had ordered him to wear a hood and keep his face as obscured in shadow as he could. 

Apparently he feared another assassination attempt. One insane man had convinced him the whole of Starkhaven was out for Sebastian’s blood. He hadn’t even allowed Sebastian to look at the man’s body before they had left the castle and found a carriage bound for Tantervale. 

“No,” Fenris said. “You’re surviving. Your people do not love you, Sebastian. To them, you’re nothing better than a usurper. You remained gone from them too long, and you’re no better than a stranger. And of course, you are involved in an affair with an elf. As progressive as you are, Sebastian, the rest of the world is just as _regressive_.” 

“I don’t believe that,” Sebastian argued. “They would have come around eventually. If we had stayed, if we had challenged their minds, opened their hearts, they would have---”

“Your assassin was Haroll,” Fenris said. “Tell me how you would have opened his heart and mind.”

Haroll... No, that couldn’t be true. Haroll was his senior advisor, the one that Sebastian looked to for counsel and guidance. He had served Sebastian’s father dutifully, and would have been a knight for the Vael family if not for his refusal to leave his father’s side. To think that he would betray him in such a way... that he could ever raise a blade against him...

“No,” Sebastian said.

“You cannot change the world with gentleness and sweet words,” Fenris said. “Every revolution demands blood, Sebastian.”

Was that what Anders had told himself? Was that really the only way?

Sebastian sighed and leaned back. His head ached, his shoulder throbbed dully, his stomach felt queasy and twisted. But he was alive, and that was what he held onto. He was alive because of Fenris.

“I never thanked you for saving me,” Sebastian whispered.

Fenris took his hand.

“I never thanked you,” Fenris said. “Consider us even.”

 

iv

 _I have ruined you_.

A whisper against Sebastian’s throat -- barely heard, barely felt. 

Sebastian pulled back from him. Darkness was between them, inside of them, all over them; but he still thought Fenris was the brightest thing he had ever seen. His eyes caught moonlight and seemed to flash and Sebastian was speechless. He shook his head, pulled Fenris close against him, tried his best to banish the darkness. 

When he found his breath, he whispered: “No. Never.”

Fenris had saved him. Not only from death, from an assassin’s blade, but from a life lived lonely and cold and unfulfilled. He had taken Sebastian’s hand and pulled him into adventure and passion and fire and blood; and it left him breathless. It left him awed. It left him _grateful_.

“I would rather live a moment here with you,” Sebastian whispered. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be. I thought you would understand that by now.”

“Look where I’ve brought you,” Fenris said.

Sebastian chuckled and cupped his face. “Yes, look where you’ve brought me; look where you’ve taken me. Far from everything I have ever known and cherished. Far from the roads I knew well and the comforts I treasured. You have taken me into pain and pleasure and you have brought me sweetness and torment and passion that feels as though it wishes to kill me. Look where you’ve brought me, Fenris. You’ve brought me here with you, and that is enough.”

“Sebastian---”

“It’s enough,” Sebastian whispered. “It is all I have ever wanted.”

They were in a barn on some abandoned farmhold where the air was heavy with dust and hay. Not quite a palace, but it had its own unique... charm. None of that mattered. Not to Sebastian at least. It was dark, and Fenris was close to him.

What else _could_ matter?

He had brought him from his home, and he had given him a new home. On the road, in a barn in the middle of nowhere, in the spaces between his ribs. He had given Sebastian a new home, and there was nothing that he could do except be grateful for him; be grateful to be dragged down into damnation and lifted up into perdition. Be grateful to be loved by someone who knew how rare a thing love was. 

They treasured one another, no matter where their feet carried them, and no matter what roof -- if any -- they found themselves under. Sebastian found in Fenris everything that he had ever desired. Fenris found in him everything that he had never known he needed. 

“Let it be enough,” Sebastian said. 

Fenris’ fingers slipped through his own and gripped tightly. He pulled Sebastian close enough to drive the darkness away between them, until their bodies were pressed tight and their breath rushed together. 

“It is,” Fenris said. “Please, just... Stay here with me, Sebastian.”

Sebastian laughed. “ _Here_?”

Fenris smiled. It was a smile Sebastian had longed to see since he had first met the man back in Kirkwall. It was a smile free of all worry and shadow. It was a smile that lit up his eyes and the Sebastian’s heart.

“Anywhere,” Fenris whispered.

Sebastian kissed him and let it be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for yarnandtea! She wanted a fic to accompany the song [Downfall](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=boLXz0YIxq8) by Matchbox 20. :3


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